The Bull's Eyes

I was born in a field on a sunny, spring day. While my eyes adjusted to the brightness of this world, my mother licked my head reassuringly. I listened carefully as she told me the stories of my father before me, I was special you see. A part of a champion bloodline bringing triumph to our master's family name.

Growing quickly on my mother's milk and running gaily with the other calves it was no secret that I stood out. My legs were taller and faster than my playmates and I was broader. I didn't let my differences cloud my heart with despair, from the stories my mother told me, I knew I had a destiny to fulfill.

The first year of my life flew by and before I could put a stop to it, I was separated from my mother and the rest of the herd. The bellows of longing and well wishes were in the air as I was taken to a field adjacent to that of the herd. I was alone, but grateful for all the space. You see, I had grown so much in height and weight and just fitting into my adult body. Not to mention my horns were sprouting from my head.

And while you would think being alone like this would be lonely, it wasn't. I had my caretaker, my master's daughter. She came to feed and water me every morning and evening. She always told me her troubles, her dreams, her fears, or even sang a song while she gave me a little scratch around my horns. Even though I couldn't understand a word of her language, her tone and emotion allowed me to bridge the gap in our language barrier. I would lean in to her scratching on the days she needed it and give a satisfied snort on the days she would sing.

In between my daily visits with her, there was training. You see, just like my father before me, I was to become a champion bull. I was a fighter. Stubborn, determined, strong - just as my kind are renowned. Every after they came into my field with this strange cloth. I certainly hated the way they shook it around. It sparked a rage inside of me and despite the warnings of my snorts, and stomps of my feet, they never seemed to get the point until I charged at them full force.

This was the part I secretly loved. You see, I didn't want to give in to my instincts for I had a gentle heart. I always gave plenty of warning before I could no longer bear the rage building inside of me like a volcano about to erupt. The charge would send me bolting as fast and strong as the thunder. I could smell the fear in the air and I knew this is what I was meant for.

My training went on and on for months until one day, the master joined the trainers in the field. My caretaker stood alongside of him. My heart beat with elation as this would be the first time they both got to see me in action. I snorted and stomped proudly, making sure they knew I was a force to be reckoned with. I even tossed my head about to add some extra flair, I mean why not, the master and his daughter were here after all.

The trainers soon faced me and the second I saw that pesky cloth come out I lowered my head and gave them one loud warning snort. It was, as to be expected, ignored as always, and I decided to charge. I could not contain my excitement, I had an audience.

I must have done well that day because the following morning, everything changed.

I started my day with her but instead of the comforting scratching, I was given a much needed bath. My horns were polished and I was given a pat on my head before I was ushered out of my stall into a trailer. I wanted to protest, but my curiosity got the best of me. I would be lying if I wasn't comforted by the fact that my caretaker was coming along on this adventure too. She joined my master in the truck, as well as my trainer. Before I knew it, we were on the move.

The fresh air from the open road was exciting to take in from the slats in the trailer. I tried to watch the world zoom past me as we went along the road, but it was so fast. Faster than I could ever run. It was a rush but almost nauseating to watch everything whiz by in a blur.

Luckily, we weren't on the move too long. We slowed and turned onto a dirt path which led to a large arena. I realized in that moment, my mother's stories were not just legends of my father, they were a promise for my own destiny.

We came to a stop and everything and everyone were moving as if this was the routine. No one stopped to tell me what was going on, but I knew to just stay calm and go with the flow. I buried down all my fears from the new sights and smells and tried to focus on what was coming. I knew from what I heard from my mother, but stories pale in comparison.

In the distance I could hear what sounded like a muffled roar. If I focused my ears, I could pinpoint the chaotic language of that of my master. I had no idea humans could be so loud - but then again, I did not know how many awaited me.

I was guided from my trailer to a pen too small to accommodate me. I felt claustrophobic and it was showing. My restlessness could not be contained and while I attempted to regain my composure, my fluttering heart was betraying me. My caretaker came to my side and gave me a quick scratch and a soothing word. I inhaled deeply, all would be fine. I looked around and I could not believe my eyes.

I had never seen so many people in one place before. Thousands, upon thousands, creating an overwhelming sensation of sights, smells, and sounds. I saw the arena that lay before me - a large dirt floor, filled with compacted hoof prints of those that came before me.

I heard loud shouting now, a singular voice overcoming the noise of all the voices I heard in tandem. The loud voice was filled with excitement with whatever he was saying and when he finished, roars and cheers came pouring from the crowd.

That's when I saw him. A tall, thin man came running into the arena. He was wearing a ridiculously pompous outfit. Too shiny for anyone with sense, but the way he took the applause, I realized he would be my competition.

The loud singular voice came over once more and it was met with more shouting and applause. I saw my caretaker clapping and felt elated and proud that this time, the applause was for me. I had to regain my focus as the applause died down and I heard my pen being opened. It was time.

I could feel my heart pounding as the gate began to lift, no longer providing partition between me and the open arena. The little man stood with his arms outstretched to one side - a move I was all to familiar. I began to stomp out a warning, gritting my teeth in hopes this stranger did not have one of those annoying clothes.

The gate had been fully lifted and I realized I could escape my confines. I kept my eyes stuck on this little man who began to dart back and forth. I could not trust him and his every move began to stir up the rage in my blood.

In a flash, I saw that damn cloth fluttering in the air and it triggered my rage to action. I bolted from the pen and headed straight towards him and the cloth. Tossing my head in warning I came down in a charge, ready to pummel the cloth, the man and just before I could feel the cloth on my horns, they both slipped away.

I was still running the opposite direction before I realized the man had gotten away from me. I immediately felt shame, yet the jeers from the crowd and my own determination fueled the inner strength, the inner rage to find him again.

I saw him across the arena. I turned and we both stood watching the other trying to calculate the next move. The cloth made another fluttering appearance and I was off. No hesitation, no warnings. I would not be beaten or out witted this time.

I ran, barreling towards the silly little man and this time, I saw the fear in his eyes as e tried to avoid my jarring horns. He barely slinked away from me this time. Somehow, it only further enraged me.

He danced his happy little dance of triumph while the crowd around us cheered and begged for more. I shook my head in frustration, snorted, and stomped my feet in anger. How could he ever outsmart me?

I decided enough was enough. I brought my head down in one final warning, summoned all the strength, and speed I could muster. In one final exhale, I watched him wave that cloth and I shot across the arena, giving it my all.

I called upon all my inner instinct, my inner strength, determination, rage, stubbornness to help me defeat my foe. The crowds shouting was drowned out and I could only hear my heartbeat and hoofbeats on the ground. I looked up and began to wave my horns around searching for the cloth, the man, anything to satisfy the pure rage built up inside me.

The man suddenly dropped the cloth which I happily trampled over. He took to his heels and ran away from me. I could not, or shall I say, would not stop. He was running to the side of the arena where no escape could be found. I was mere footsteps behind him, a force of power never to be underestimated. The man desperately tried to climb the walls of the arena to be freed of my fury, but it was too late. My horns met his stomach with a satisfying squelch and felt the wave of rage release from my body as my horns were plunged into his.

I took a step back to remove my horns and the man slipped to the ground in a heap. I stomped my hooves again and raised my head, feeling the blood drip down my horns. The applause, the shouts, the screams, were deafening and I soaked up all my recognition. I was after all, from a champion bloodline of bulls and my pride for that of myself and my ancestors overcame me. I stood for everything our species was made of: strength, determination, ferocity, stubbornness, stamina, and confidence.

I only hoped as I stood in the arena, the crowd could understand what it was that this bull was made of.